SnowWhite and the Seven Dwarves
by totallystellar
Summary: COMPLETE The classical fairy tale of Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves as told by the Brothers Grimm rewritten in the style of Edgar Allen Poe. Please Read and Review.
1. Segment One

**Reposted with new formatting.**

**Title:  Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves**

**Author:  **totallystellar****

**Category: ** Horror/Drama****

**Rating:  **PG-13****

**Summary:  **The classical fairy tale of Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves as told by the Brothers Grimm rewritten in the style of Edgar Allen Poe.  Please Read and Review.****

**Author's Notes:  **Although I haven't thought of pursuing many more endeavors into the world of horror literature, it has been a consideration.  This story was a Language Arts assignment:  Take a classical fairy tale and rewrite it as Edgar Allen Poe might have.  Here are the results.  Enjoy.  

**General Disclaimer:  **Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves still remains in possession of the Bros. Grimm, and Edgar Allen Poe is just, as always, a role model for aspiring horror story authors and has nothing at all to do with me.

Snow-White and the Seven Dwarves

♀ Segment One

My name is Snow-White. As long as I can remember, my evil stepmother, the Queen, dominated my life. Her predecessor, my mother, was a kind Queen and wife to my father, the King, but she died in childbirth. I try to reminisce back into the short time that followed my mother's death, the only time when I was without the presence of my stepmother, but as I was only a baby, I can't remember much.  
  
            It seems to me that I must have started out well, but, as I grew with my stepmother's constant presence being my only guide to follow, my mind became a corrupted place of thoughts instilled in me by my reprobate stepmother's example, and my life surely would have turned into an emulation of the Queen's own cruel substitution of what the kindhearted call life, but the pessimist unlucky existence, had I not realized the useful advantage that being a girl enabled me. I could manipulate the hardest of hearts by simply a flutter of my long eyelashes, by a pout of my red lips, by a fake stream of pitiful tears down my porcelain-like white skin. Oh, it was too amusing.  
  
            In short, I personified a pernicious personage, equally perplexing in way of character and demeanor, and in underlying intentions, and in seemingly innocent motives and preferences. My façade was impeccable; totally and undeniably the most clever (in my own humble opinion) of displays of acting that one might ever encounter, despite frequent fraternizations with those of my sort.  
  
            The Queen was in possession of a priceless artifact that would have inspired wonder in all that gazed upon it. It was a Magic Mirror, a mirror that told its questioner the truth of whatever it may inquire. It hung on the wall in her chamber, and she consulted it often in her vanity, asking it questions of whom was richer, whom was the better, and questions of that genre, but her favorite question was that of whom was the fairest in all the kingdom. Oh, her conceit was too amusing! And one day I spied her upon walking by her chamber one day, relating the very question to her Mirror of Truth.  
  
            "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall,

 Who is the fairest one of all?"  
  
And the Mirror answered in response that I was truly the fairer.  
  
            When I heard that I was fairer, though it was common knowledge already, and flying fast among the people, I still was happy as can be. But, it was my folly, my shameful folly, that I should not have guessed that the horrible loathing of my stepmother would increase, and that she would not put into action what she secretly would wish. Of course, none must be as beautiful as her! So one day, as I played in the garden and in the wood, a hunter came upon me and made to kill me, with his knife. But I, of course, cursing myself for my stupidity of not foreseeing this obvious repercussion of the Mirror's fateful words, made the hunter pity me with humble knees bent and with heartbreaking tears running down my cheeks. He let me run, and I found myself in the wood, alone, running away from the castle for fear of my life. Oh, if it had not been me, it would have been too amusing!  
  
            After a while of running I meandered through the woods, for though it was cold the sun was out and it shone in patterns on the icy grass, filtered through the turning leaves. I came upon a cottage of a sort, a small one, empty though not abandoned, and, upon looking around for the occupants, and finding them departed, I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stuck my head inside the premises. It was a larger inside than it appeared from the exterior, and a large wooden table offered a simple feast with wine in the goblets. Everything was tiny, though, and not wanting to take all from one place, I took just a sip from each goblet and a morsel from each plate. By then I was exhausted and found myself as if by an invisible force drawn to the impending comfort of an assortment of beds, seven in all, that lined the walls of a room up the stairs. But they were all of different sizes, some long and some short, some narrow and other wide, and I found my instinctive royal condescending criticism of the bedding initiated, and I bit my lip as I inspected with much disdain the numerous beds from which I might choose. They residents of the abode still had not returned, and I was dreadfully tired, so I decided to retire into the furthermost bed, a soft one with a plaid comforter, and though it's sheets were slightly rough with starch, it was a soft mattress and it suited my weary, tired body well.  
  
            I awoke suddenly what seemed hours later by a loud commotion by the doorway of the room of beds. I tried to ignore it, being partly asleep, but soon I found myself being awoken by seven dwarves, all with long beards and ruddy faces. I was frightened horribly for they looked down at me with wide eyes and shock in their faces, and I feared their wrath at my intrusion into their home. Had I not been afraid of rebuke, I would have laughed at their strange little bodies, how amusing they were! But they seemed happy at my being there, and we quickly came to a compromise that I could stay with them in their humble cottage away from everyone if I would do their housework and make their meals while they were gone. I jumped on the prospect of staying hidden from the Queen, and so I began a life with the dwarves.  
  
            The dwarves, loving creatures that they were, took me in, caring for me, calling me complimentary names such as "White beauty" or "fairest of damsels." We lived happily for a time, but as their motherly kindness and attentive watching of me continued from the second they came back from their work so when they departed in the morn, I found what was once gratitude turning to burning hatred. And with the dirty, ugly creatures (how had I ever found them nice?) wanting every bit of my time, hindering my escape (which I had been planning since the madness started to latch upon my mind), and surely - surely! plotting my demise. But as my hatred and disgust grew, I bit my tongue wisely, for the food good and the weather icy. But my patience grew thin - thin as to break with the strain of my disguised hatred - and I decided, after much thought and little debate, that I must dispose of the wretched half-humans. Dispose of the horrible dwarf-beasts as I wish I only had the chance of destroying my stepmother too. I wanted to kill them, for killing is the only proper way of ridding oneself of bothersome beings.  
  
            Clever plans erupted in my head once I'd decided to kill them, but I maintained my kindly, loving, genial disposition whenever in their presence. My labors - sweeping, cleaning - kindly deeds of a pure heart? Eh, no, only to deceive the dwarves into a false confidence, so as to be the least of all suspects. The dwarven horrors danced merrily and gay through the wood, and through the house when they arrived at home, joyous at my company, for I was steadily growing more beautiful each day. None suspected, not a one - none ventured to inquire at what their lovely maiden thought of as they whisked off to the gold mines in the early morning sun. None had the slightest doubt of my confidence, none had any resentment toward their seemingly innocent resident, none saw past my impeccable facade. Snow-white, a traitor? Never! Oh, it was too amusing. Only one of the seven seemed wary of my excessive elation, the one called Grumpy. He was not a devious fellow, and not at all as clever as he tried to appear, and always the pessimist. He watched me with the distrustful eyes of a suspicious animal, dogging my footsteps in what he obviously thought an inconspicuous way, following me, spying incessantly at every turn, bend, wind! But I, oh, I was more than aware. If I had had seven eyes, one for each dwarf, I could not have been more aware! And the whole situation, and the irony of it for the dwarves... let me tell you, dears… It was just too amusing.

**Author's Note:**  This was Segment One…  the others are being reposted ASAP.

Elle


	2. Segment Two

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves 

♀ Segment Two

I stayed with the dwarves, being uncharacteristically pleasant (oh, what a tedious job it truly was!), until I grew to long for the times when they were in the mines, away from me, so that I could be the horrible person that I have since expanded upon. (Noted, from above, in the previous text which expands upon what is now being expanded upon, "In short, I personified a pernicious personage, equally perplexing in way of character and demeanor, and in underlying intentions, and in seemingly innocent motives and preferences. My facade was impeccable; totally and undeniably the cleverest (in my own humble opinion) of displays of acting that one might ever encounter, despite frequent fraternizations with those of my sort.") Ah, if it had not been me it would have been too amusing!  
  


  
            And so, in between sweeping the floors and cooking the meals, I planned slowly how I might kill them off one by one, first the skeptical Grumpy, and slowly but surely working my way down to the foolishly trusting Dopey. Maybe lure them away into a dark corner and strangle them? Or perhaps poison would do? Oh - Oh - How about knives! Knives work wonders when twisted the right way in the heart or organ of a beast. It causes them pain beyond measure, yet keeps them alive for just a moment or two long enough for me to savor their end. Oh, but then there leaves the problem of sanitation, for I do truly hate the taste of blood on my potatoes, and we've only one good knife! Or maybe I could blind them and leave them to die of starvation in a cave somewhere, calling upon them daily to laugh in their faces over their horrible fate. Now there is a tempting offer, my dears!! Oh, it would be too amusing when they slowly realized, those dumb-witted baboons, that their trusted friend was picking them off one by one by one! Oh - it would just be too amusing!  
  


  
            I also mused of my stepmother, the Queen, and what she might be doing as I bided my time with the dwarf-beasts. Checking in her mirror, no doubt, for the Queen had always been vain to the extreme!  
  


  
_In the Castle_

  
  
            The Queen strolled leisurely into her chamber, quite sure now that she was the most beautiful woman ever to be seen, but still consulted her mirror.  
  
            "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall Who's the fairest of them all?"  
  
And it answered, unflinchingly,  
  
            "Queen, in your kingdom, 'tis no rival but while Snow-White remains alive you shall always be the second and her beauty thou shan't deprive"  
  
            At this the Queen flew into a rage, screaming and crying out in anger, for the hunter had tricked her, and she knew not what to do. But the woman knew some witchcraft through her trade, and devised a plan to kill off her contender. She painted her face and dressed in rags and cast a spell of poison over one half of an apple. The Queen grinned. None would recognize her at all, not even Snow-White herself! Finally, she would be rid of the fair maiden at long last, and be the most beautiful woman in the world, having no rival, living in everlasting happiness and dwelling and drowning in a pool rapture at her own beauty.  
  
            Snow-White's stepmother started off at once. "Oh, this is just too amusing." She thought.  
  
  


_At the Dwarves Cottage_  
  


            In my indecision I hesitated, and one day as the Dwarves were gone in the mine, an old woman came up to the window. I was washing dishes for the dwarves and the sunlight was streaming in on the soaping ceramics as I hummed my favorite melancholy tune. Suddenly, I heard the voice of an old woman, calling;  
  
            "Apples! A good fare for these wares, and apples for sale!"  
  
            I looked out the lace-edged window, for I had fastened upon a fixture of my own astute invention a lace of meticulously delicate design above the window panes, and saw a pleasant old woman with a basket full of delicious- looking apples walking up the mountain path that led to the cottage. The apples reflected the sunlight with a red and green and yellow glint, and looked as though they were at the pinnacle of ripeness. How I longed to eat one! I longed to eat one just as I longed to kill the dwarves, and my stepmother, and the innocent bugs and birds and other living creatures! But my instinct told me otherwise, for the Queen knew some witchcraft and of course would try to kill me once her Mirror told her of my whereabouts.  
  
            But when the old woman drew near to my window, and her face shone with a happy trust and an encouraging expression, and the apples became more delectable with each step she took closer to me, I found I could not resist, and let her inside. I opened the door for her, having a strong urge to slam it at her heals, crushing the old bones, to make her cry out in pain so that I may enjoy the first taste of what I would soon enjoy (the torture of my dwarven companions, of course!), but the apples looked to die for (oh, the amusing irony of this statement!) so I refrained from my malignant intensions and seated her at my table as courteously as you may please. At first I was wary, and told her so plainly. I was of course wore the deceiving mask of a sweet and caring little girl while speaking to her, I am no fool! But she told me not to by shy, that I would come to no harm, and I came to believe her like a foolish little child. Oh, my folly, my folly! The horribly shameful folly in trusting the old woman. I shall teach my children that old women should never be trusted, especially if they come bringing pacifying gifts of enticing apples, so enticing that your very mouth waters at the sight and you may never have a night of peaceful rest without taking a bite of one. But I, still trying to be clever, and for all my awareness not being clever enough, asked her to take a bite of the accursed apple which brought about my sentence encased in a glass coffin.  
  
            She deceived me, that horrible woman! The treacherous being, my stepmother the Queen in a masterful disguise! Oh, how amusing it would be, how ironic the irony I would find, if only it had not been I. So the old woman took half of an apple, the green half, while I took the red half, and my half, being poisoned, trapped me in a deep, impenetrable sleep from which I had no hope of recovering from. Alas! My over-confidence was my true downfall, my cocky sureness of mind my end! And true, how true it is, that if it had not been me, it would have been just too amusing.  
  


**Author's Note:**  Although the brevity of these chapters are a horror in itself, it was either many chapters or one long chapter.  You can tell I chose the former.


	3. Segment Three

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves 

♀ Segment Three

I fell to the floor in a dazed stupor, and with the bitten apple piece still in my mouth, slumped down unconscious, although some part of me was still acutely aware of my surroundings. How can I explain this to one who has not a notion of what it is like? A queer feeling of floating made me gasp, but if I made a sound I did not hear it. I had been robbed of my senses by some phantasmal entity! I do not know how much time passed until the dwarves returned to find me, but upon finding my body they lamented, cursing the Queen. They decided to encase me in a glass coffin and place me on the mountainside. Idiots and fools! Did they not know my rosy cheeks and radiant beauty would be marred by the glare of the mountain sun? That animals would creep through the seams of the glass and devour me, eating and gnawing at my unblemished ivory skin? Idiots, careless, stupid half-humans!  
  
And so I lay undisturbed upon the abandoned mountainside for many days and nights, unchanging. My only visitors were my despised companions, and although I loathed them, even their ceremonious visits were comfort, and cleared the monotony nicely.  
  
One day as I lay, still impaired of my sense, I became aware of a presence above me, staring. I was filled apprehension and many thoughts came to my unconscious mind - who was there? Was something coming to eat me? What was happening? But despite my futile attempts at gathering the information useful to me with my newly acquired sense of direction and slight premonition-like abilities, I still had to wait, wrought with anxiety, for my fate. The next day, (or was it week? I may never know.) I subconsciously felt that my glass prison was being lifted from its foundation onto the shoulders of slaves. It made me mentally chuckle at the thought of those slaves, straining underneath the weight of my sarcophagus. If only I had been sighted, that I might have seen the pain of the slaves at their work! But the disappointing aspect of my conundrum was thrown out of my mind as a jolt of the coffin jerked open my slack jaw and let the apple fall onto my chest.  
  
I shot up at once, eager to experience sight and hearing again, only to see a handsome prince leaning over my face and staring into my eyes. I was helped out of the open glass door, and carried off to his castle, where we were soon married. The wedding was held in a beautiful hall, full of attendants and servants and noblemen and women. My stepmother came to my wedding, and, greener than the darkest green with envy, she danced until her feet turned red and she fell to the floor dead. I laughed at her. As soon as I could, I slipped away from my new husband and sneaked into the kitchens quietly. I still had my old stopper of rat poison with me; it is always handy to carry such things with one, you never know when you might need it. I slipped it into the food of the guests and watched with pleasure as they sporadically fell into their plates of elegant food, dead. There was a great uproar about it, and I ended up sentencing 13 of the kitchen maids to execution hall, where I held an hour-long course on the proper execution of perpetrators to the gunmen, explaining to them carefully the different styles of torture and the twisting techniques that I had perfected since childhood on small squirrels and other rodents.  
  
Although most tales such as mine are expected to end happily ever after, as the old cliché foretells, I shall gladly enlighten you in the knowledge that my tale ended with a grievously death-filled conclusion. The prince was a joyous fool, and his happiness vexed me, so I tied him up and tortured him until he died. It was really quite fun; I would be lying if I told you different. The dwarves were slain as well, only in a more humane fashion... I had them tied to a road and trampled by horses. What a parade it was! Anyway, I had to leave that early, for I had started a Torture Class, and needed to be there early to plan my lessons.  
  
And so ends the story of Snow-White, the ebony-haired, red-lipped, ivory-skinned beauty. All in all, my dears, I'd just have to say that my life was just.... too amusing.  
  


**Author's Note:**  Three incredibly short chapters equal one surprisingly long remake of a classical Brothers Grimm fairy tale enhanced into a horrific rendition in the style of a certain Mr. E. A. Poe.

That is all.

*bows*


	4. Note

**A last note:**

**If you'd like, I'll take a crack at rewriting other fairy tales or stories into Edgar Allen Poe themed renditions.  Just e-mail me or ask so in a review.**

**Also, please check out my newest story, Regalis Amor.  I assure you, it's a good read.**

♪ ♀ ♥ Meghan ♥ ♀ ♫


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